


A Star Quaking

by Rubynye



Series: Fire And Ice [4]
Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Genderswap, Mirror Universe, One of My Favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on, Bones. I've got something to show you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Star Quaking

**Author's Note:**

> Another interstitial segment for [And Would Suffice](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/424591.html), and I have at least one more upcoming.
> 
> Written for the [Sex is Not the Enemy Fic/Artathon](http://villainny.livejournal.com/1420948.html), to the prompt of [this nonworksafe picture](http://sexisnottheenemy.tumblr.com/post/125760240/speedsick-the-code-831), with thanks to [](http://villainny.livejournal.com/profile)[**villainny**](http://villainny.livejournal.com/). And with so much thanks to [](http://asimaiyat.livejournal.com/profile)[**asimaiyat**](http://asimaiyat.livejournal.com/), not least for [the gorgeous fanmix](http://asimaiyat.livejournal.com/105733.html) which I listened to as I wrote this.

Leah McCoy, M.D., newly installed CMO and Captain's Woman on the _ISS Enterprise_, stands in Yeoman Janice Rand's quarters frowning at her bare legs below her regulation-short skirt. They itch from the depilator, as do her denuded arms, and her fingers twitch to cover the obvious palm-print bruised into her left shoulder, lurid purple spilling out beneath the glorified brassiere-strap. Crossing her arms and scowling at Rand, Leah already longs for her male-style uniform with its wrist-length sleeves and warm pants.

Rand methodically folds that uniform, not meeting Leah's eyes. She never meets anyone's eyes, and after a few moments of glaring at Rand's impassive profile Leah glances down, feeling guilty. Rand's as trapped as she is, has been here longer, and her bare arms are dappled with fading rainbow blotches. "Come get those bruises looked at tomorrow," Leah offers, her voice a little raspy. It's been a long day.

Rand shakes her toweringly coiffed head. "The Captain gave me these," she says, voice soft and toneless, and Leah understands. She began wearing the long-sleeved top because she's not allowed to erase the marks Kirk leaves on her skin.

Well, that and also the ridiculous bathing suit issued to Starfleet's women is nothing to practice medicine in. Ten days out from Terra and Leah's still learning her new Sickbay, still figuring out how to go from an incomplete fellowship five years ago to CMO of an imperial starship now. It's embarrassing nepotism on Kirk's part, and a couple of the nurses do resent her, but M'Benga and Videnah seem not to. Maybe they share Rand's relief that Leah draws the weight of Kirk's attention; as she orders, "Boots," Rand holds out her hand as support, so all Leah does is sigh, roll her eyes, and obediently pull on the shiny, high-heeled, knee-high fripperies provided in place of her sturdy black everyday boots. None of this is Rand's fault.

It's Kirk's whim -- _Rand's quarters. 2200. Wear what she gives you_ \-- and Leah's fault for picking Starfleet in the first place. Two months ago it seemed like the furthest she could get away, the most powerful protector she could find when she took Joanna and ran from Jake; now she's trying to raise her daughter something like safely amidst these predators, she's responsible for fixing them whenever they savage each other. And at the apex there's Kirk, sleek and leonine, almost always wearing that sunny smile, and each night Leah spends under his heavy arm across her waist she thinks over whether he's really an improvement on the man she left. He doesn't hit her nearly as often as Jake did, he doesn't insult her, but he inflicts bruises with lascivious precision and has made her cry twice so far just so he can watch with those laser blue eyes. He treats Joanna like a favorite niece instead of with open resentment, but holds her life over Leah's head like a damnable leash.

Leah shivers at that thought, and because the air swirls cool and drafty around her bare thighs, flowing into a changed pattern. Rand's eyes widen, her mouth tightening, and Leah glances over her shoulder to see Kirk lounging in the open doorway, his folded arms bared by his vest, one shoulder blocking the slot for the retracted door. Leah's pulse spikes, but his "There's my lovely Bones," is what makes her shake, obviously, all over.

"Captain," Rand says smoothly while Leah's still swallowing her heart back down from her throat. "We haven't started on her hair yet, Sir." Leah reaches for her hairpin as she nods, trying to unstick her mouth and greet him properly, trying not to give him any excuse.

"Don't worry, Rand." Kirk lopes forward and the door shuts; Leah makes herself turn to face him, and Rand's voice may be steady but she's shaking at Leah's back. "I like it just the way it is." He closes his hand around Leah's raised wrist, Rand ducking away out of reach, and plucks the hairpin, his arms muscular brackets around Leah's head. Her cheeks flood with heat as she watches the sideways uptilt of his deceptively generous mouth, and she thinks a stream of silent curses as she shuts her eyes tightly. Her hair falls around her shoulders, tumbling loose and cool down her burning neck; Kirk skims knuckles over her cheekbone as he lowers his hands, tugging her forearm with fingers easily strong enough to break both bones. "There, perfect," he purrs indulgently, and Leah's gut twists, a torrid flush spilling down her skin and along her nerves. No one who scares her like Kirk does should be able to turn her on with one rough, casual caress.

He squeezes her wrist just as casually, her carpals grinding together, but her panties are undeniably damp. It's convenient and it's ludicrous and at this rate he'll have her getting off on pain until she might even enjoy that horrendous Agony Booth. "Thank you," she stammers, her tongue thick. "Sir."

"Nice work, Rand." Kirk gestures, a crook of two fingers, a slight roll of his head, and Rand wavers forward again. "Check your padd." He hands her Leah's hairpin and pinches her cheek, then tugs Leah's hand up over his forearm, settling it with a firm pat. "Dr. McCoy, shall we?"

Leah merely nods as Kirk leads her out, fear and fury and arousal a three-way tug of war inside her, her ankles wobbling beneath her in these flimsy high heeled boots. She'd agreed to be a loyal doctor, to guard her primary patient's life like her own, but that couldn't be enough for the Imperial Fleet, it couldn't be enough for Captain James T. Kirk. There are younger, prettier women on this ship, God knows -- Leah glances back at Rand, who's turned away, lofty golden hairdo bent over her padd, taut shoulders already relaxing -- but Kirk couldn't be content to possess Leah's work and her training, he has to lay claim to her body too.

Now here she is, tottering through the corridor as Kirk strides along at his usual speed, underdressed and tarted up and just this side of shivering. She's barely more than a civilian among the Empire's warriors, and though everyone they pass nods to the Captain she feels it when their gazes slide across her bare skin, goosebumps prickling up. So Leah holds her head high, pressing her mouth severely tight, and keeps her walk businesslike. Kirk can order her to dress as a simpering arm ornament, but he can't make her act like one.

He breaks into her thoughts by leading her into a turbolift she wasn't expecting, and with, "So how's Sickbay treating you?"

"Everything is going very well," Leah answers, thinking of Rand's even tones as her belly quivers. This doesn't look like any route to the officers' deck, and she'd been hoping to tap on Chapel's door and ask how Joanna's settled down for the evening. "The staff have shown me deference and cooperation, and I think we're going to work well together."

Kirk laughs, rich and rolling and terrifying, and Leah flinches away from him before she can stop herself, tethered by her hand pinned between his arm and side. "Bones, don't bullshit me," he says merrily, and suddenly her back smacks into the lift wall and his hand's around her throat, the bright amusement in his eyes ominously near and not the least bit dimmed. "Don't ever try to bullshit me." Leah nods, swallowing against the press of his fingers, her hands useless around his iron wrist, his body as hot against her front as the wall is chill behind her. "I heard you had trouble today, so spill." Kirk's hand eases downward, flattening below her collarbones, his pinky teasing at her cleavage.

Leah wants to shriek at Kirk to stop groping her in a turbolift, struggles not to show how badly he's rattled her. She can't slow her racing heart, but she forces her diaphragm into steady even breaths and obeys. "Nurse Terwilliger challenged my authority, trivially. I took care of it, and I don't think she'll be--" Kirk's hand slides upwards in warning, and Leah's teeth slam shut.

"I heard," Kirk says slowly, pushing his hand just as slowly up her throat, pressing on windpipe and pulse and finally cupping her chin, "That Terwilliger said you're only the CMO because the Captain's fucking you." Leah's furious hot blush is as bad as a 'yes'. "What did you say to that?"

"Sounds like you already know the story, Sir," and Leah can't keep the defiant tilt out of her voice, even when Kirk's smirk widens, his thumbnail dragging a bright sharp line across her external jugular. He presses with his fingers, with his thighs against hers, the lift's still _moving_, and she has a horrible image of the door opening to show the crew their Captain strangling or fucking his new CMO. "You don't need to choke it out of me. _Captain_." She lands hard on his title, as close as she can bend herself to 'please'.

His grin wide and vicious, Kirk kisses Leah, a quick hard slam of mouth against mouth that leaves her lips tingling. "Maybe I like watching you talk." His fingers stroke up her cheek, his other hand settles hot and broad on the curve of her waist. "So talk."

Leah can't look away from the manic gleam in Kirk's eyes, can't feel anything but the airless heat of his hands and body. "I told Terwilliger," and the rest of the staff, gathered behind the little harpy or listening from every corner, "that I may be your Woman, but I'm the _Enterprise_'s CMO because I'm a damn good doctor, so they're going to work with me."

"Mmm." Kirk thumbs her lower lip, a drag of calloused skin from corner to corner of her mouth, rough even through the clear gloss she and Rand compromised on. "Or else what?"

"Or else nothing," Leah answers, as if she's not shaking under Kirk's fingers dipping into the ridge of her spine and denting her cheek, under the feel of her mouth moving beneath his still-pressing thumb. "They're my staff, that's final."

"So you didn't dose Terwilliger with something to underscore your point?" The lift arrives, door sliding open behind Kirk's shoulder. "Come on, no poison? A virus? Not even something to make her itch all over?" Kirk winds his arm around Leah's waist and scoops her off the wall, hauling her along as she gapes at him.

"Of course not! Why in the Hell -- you wouldn't _kill_ someone for..." Her question deflates as she realizes that she really doesn't want to know _Kirk's_ answer to that; then she looks up, and sees where they are. "Engineering?"

"Just making sure my girls get to know each other," is his inexplicable reply. "And, you know, this is why we've got agonizers."

"Those barbaric devices?" Kirk offered her one twice, the morning after they met and her first night aboard, and both times she told him to take it away before Joanna saw it. "I'm not gonna torture my staff into respecting me!" They've arrived at a railing, and Leah folds her hands around it for support, barely seeing the engineers and machinery below.

Kirk regards her with a smirky little headshake, as if she's hopelessly amusing. "We'll discuss this later. Come on, Bones. I've got something to show you." He leads her through the Engineering bay, under ledges and through some crawlspaces that make her blush to duck and bend in this outfit, until they reach a relatively low passageway, three meters from taupe polymer floor to brushed-steel ceiling, cut through with a small forest of vertical power conduits.

Kirk sets a hand on one of the glowing shafts, which are about as wide as Leah's waist and translucent white with a faint blue pulse inside. He splays his fingers over it, his smile soft, its pale blue flickering in his eyes, and he looks like a man in love; something twists uncomfortably inside Leah, squirming beneath her heart. It's hard to hate Kirk when he looks like this.

Especially when his gaze shifts to her, and he smirks but his eyes don't harden. "C'mere, Bones," he says with that beckoning head tilt, "touch this." She reaches out carefully, and it's warm like a living thing, the pulses of blue light corresponding to a ceaseless thrum. When she thinks about it, she's heard it since she arrived, a back-beat to every shipboard sound.

"Oh," Leah murmurs, feeling the ship's heartbeat beneath her hand, and Kirk's smile shines at the corner of her vision, wide and guileless as a boy's.

Right up until the ease of it startles her into glancing at him, until his eyebrows sharpen downwards and his eyes gleam like polished glass, until he grabs her wrist and jerks her close. "Doesn't she feel alive?" he asks, sliding his hand around her waist again, pressing her to himself. "My beautiful ship. Feels almost as good as you do."

"Yes, very nice," Leah gasps as Kirk backs her up against the conduit, its warm indifferent thrum unchanged against her spine. "but you wanted to show me something?"

Kirk's frown is slight, but quite daunting enough, especially this close; he tugs his hand free with a violent flourish, and Leah almost cringes until she realizes he's gesturing at their surroundings. "This, Bones! The _Enterprise_'s beating heart. Well," and the corners of his mouth tilt up again, his hand settles on her cheek, "its undercarriage, to be specific. The main reactor bleed's right up there, nothing between it and us but buffer plating and Jefferies tubes."

Leah makes a mental note to check their radiation exposure when she can, rather hoping that crazy Scott keeps up with the maintenance. "How romantic, Sir." Kirk's teeth gleam flat and glossy as his grin unfurls. "I'm impressed."

"I thought you would be." Kirk releases her wrist to reach into his pocket, and she misses her pants all over again. "Hands up, Bones." He pulls out a black tangle, and she recognizes standard-issue medical restraints.

"What-- _no_." Leah can't twist away, the way Kirk's got her pinned, but she folds her arms between their chests, setting her feet as firmly as she can with her heels off the floor. "This is a public space. _Captain_." He can do what he likes to her in his quarters or behind her office door, and he does, but there are things she will not do.

"Oh, Bones," Kirk croons, clamping his fingers tightly around her other wrist. She grits her teeth and resists, but he pries her hand up and turns her arm over, leaning back just enough to tug her forearm out between them. "But I've been wanting to feel my girls' heartbeats together for such a long time." Leah opens her mouth to point out that he can just as well feel the ship's hum in his quarters, to bargain her way out of this bout of exhibitionism somehow, when he crumples the restraints up into his palm and drags his fingertips across her forearm, about a third of the way up. Across the spot where Joanna's arm contains a remote-controlled poison chip that Kirk could detonate any time he chooses.

Leah's ribcage freezes around her airless lungs, her eyes squeeze shut as if she could unsee his threat. Her chin sags in a nod, and Kirk catches it in his murderously strong fingers, pushes her face up and kisses her. He exhales into her mouth and as if on command she inhales, a loud angry whoop of breath that just makes him chuckle as he gathers up her wrists and pushes them over her head. Her belly roils as he tugs her hands behind the conduit, securing them, and she strains against his hold, pointlessly, unsuccessfully, because she has to.

Kirk steps back, breaking the kiss on a wet noise, sliding his dagger from its sheath, and Leah almost wishes what she dreads was that he'd stab her. "Captain Kirk, damn it, _please_," she begs, twisting and tottering as he eyes her avidly, twirling the dagger between his fingers. "Anyone could come down here."

"Just like outdoor fucking," he says, and "Bones, hold still." She glares at him, and he just gives her one of those sunny goddamn smiles of his as he slides the blade between his handprint on her shoulder and the strap of her top. "Or as close as we can get in space, anyway," he muses, twisting the dagger, and the top sags.

"Don't -- at least _unfasten_ \-- goddammit!" as Kirk cuts the other strap and down the side so the top falls off. He tugs away the sash, restraining her by her hip as he slices up the side of her skirt, the dagger a smooth cool swipe along her skin. "If you cut my clothes off, what do I wear out of here?"

"I'll dress to match, I promise," Kirk tells her irrelevantly, ludicrously sincere even as he jerks the dagger and it pricks her. She freezes as best she can considering how she's shaking, and he tugs her cut underwear away, spreading his hand out on her belly, his index finger over the scar she kept from Joanna's birth. "Bones, you should see yourself." He leans in close and she ducks her head, so he smacks a kiss on her temple as he steps back, sheathing his dagger and unfastening his vest.

"No one should see me like this," she argues, "or you, doesn't running around naked detract from your _captainly dignity_?" He stops, face still as he looks at her, and under the flush of embarrassment she goes cold with fear. Maybe she's finally let her mouth run to her damnation, to Joanna's.

But he just laughs again, the pulsing glow from the conduits flickering in his eyes as he shamelessly drops his clothes all around him. "I've wanted to bring you down here since I first saw you," Kirk tells her as he pulls off his boots, his voice low and warm, so intimate she shudders. "You know why?" As if she knows how his devious, demented mind works, but she bites her lip hard rather than let her mouth go again, mutely shaking her head. "This deck was the first schematic Pike showed me when he told me about the _Enterprise_." Sash, trousers, underwear all fall, and he stands as naked and unconcerned as a baby before her, but then if Kirk ever heard of shame he probably discarded it with the other humane proprieties. "I looked at those beautiful plans for this beautiful ship, spread out under my fingers as he fucked me over his desk, and I knew she had to be mine."

Leah's breath catches as she can't help wondering just what Kirk did to claim command of the _Enterprise_. She searches desperately for something to say that isn't 'So you crippled him for it?' and blurts, "What makes you think I want to hear about your kinky sex games with Admiral Pike?"

"Don't you want a preview of my kinky sex games with you?" He kneels before her, and she doesn't let herself think of kicking him as he unzips one boot and peels it from her leg, kissing her ankle so gently she wishes it didn't warm her. "And, by the way, I didn't arrange his accident. You don't think he'd still be alive if I had, right?"

It's almost a relief to be chilled by that matter-of-fact malice. "I have no idea, Sir. I'm just a doctor, not an assassin."

"Oh, Bones, you're so much more." Kirk tugs her other boot free, laying a line of warm kisses up her thigh, and Leah struggles not to enjoy the softness of his mouth, the almost reverent way he trails his fingers up her hips, when any moment the kisses might sharpen into bites, the caresses harden into squeezes. He may not look like it, his hair soft under her heart as he smiles against her belly, but he could kill her daughter, he could kill her, he could kill anyone aboard. She looks down into Kirk's shining eyes and when she remembers the way he threw a hapless ensign into the Booth for smiling at Rand, Leah welcomes the horrifying memory rather than forget herself under Kirk's radiant heat.

He sees it in her face. He's only known her two months but he always sees what she's thinking. She should've closed her eyes, she does but he's already standing before her, over her, hard against her thigh as he presses her against the smooth warm conduit. "You know what you are?" His hands slide up her sides, molding to her waist, pressing into the flesh over her ribs, shaping around her breasts; he thumbs her nipples and she shudders, pressing her face into his shoulder in a desperate effort to keep herself quiet, a mistake when he even smells good. "Here, let me show you." Cloth flicks over her skin as he lifts his hands, and then he's tying it across her eyes. Her sash, that stupid fucking sash, and now she can't even see. "Shh, just relax, I got you." He strokes her hair, cupping her neck, and she shivers as his fingers enclose her throat. "By the time I let you loose you won't even care about the blindfold anymore."

"Somehow I doubt that," Leah snaps, or tries to, her voice shaking, her breath hitching as he kisses the dip of her throat. She wants to melt under his hands and his mouth, to snarl at him to get _on_ with it before some Engineering ensign comes round the corner and gets an eyeful, and she doesn't know what words he'll listen to, what will make him do the opposite, what will drive him to violence, what will just make him laugh. All her uncertainty knots in her gut, dense and chill against the floating heat of arousal, and she clings to it as she curls her bound hands around empty air and shudders under Kirk's touch.

Kirk snickers as he bites the curve of her arm, lightly because he could do it hard, and murmurs, vibrating into her throbbing skin, "When I first saw you, sitting in Pike's office, you know what I thought?" His fingers map the curves of Leah's spine and waist and ass, stroking like they fit even though they shouldn't; she shakes her head, trying to tumble her hair over her face, fighting not to moan. "That you're just like my beautiful _Enterprise_." He brushes her cheekbone with parted lips. "You were another man's first but I'm the one you're meant for."

Leah's mouth falls open on an indignant gasp, her eyelids strain against the blindfold, as Kirk curls his fingers beneath her thighs, tugging her feet from beneath her. Her heart thuds against her ribs and she's... terrified, she must be terrified as her weight settles on his hands and his fingers dent her flesh and he smiles against her cheek. He's going to fuck her and she could beg for Joanna's life and she drags in a huge breath as he nudges her and what falls out of her mouth is "I'm not yours, I'm not a thing!" She doesn't even snarl it, her voice slides into a scream as he pushes into her, one hard steady thrust that crackles through her as he crushes her against the humming conduit, as he slams his mouth onto hers.

And she doesn't bite him, her neck tips back and she moans, and he rumbles into her mouth and bounces her between his hard trim body and the hard curve of the conduit. He fucks her there, suspended and pinned with her hips tilted at the worst best angle so each thrust makes her clit twinge, until she sobs against his mouth and her eyes roll behind their crimped lids and she kicks the empty air. He bounces her hard and kisses her harder, swallowing her screams and not letting up until her lips burn, his hands branding the backs of her thighs as his hips piston against hers and her mind whites out. She comes spasming around him, despite everything, because of everything, and he relentlessly fucks her through it, growls and presses her bottom lip between his as he shudders into his own orgasm, clutching her as she gasps and he pulses into her, and her first conscious thought is that he could've used his teeth.

He can always use his teeth. He nips her lip very lightly, breathing a chuckle as he releases her mouth, leaning his shoulder on the conduit as they shiver like one body. Leah trembles in Kirk's grasp, trying to remember how to speak, how to argue, when he rests his lips on her forehead and murmurs, "You think you're not mine? I think you are."

His words ricochet through her, opening fissures, and she can't stifle the high desperate noise in the back of her throat, can't shield herself with anger, can't swallow down the sob as Kirk kisses her again. He pulls from her, lowering her feet to the floor, and she slumps in her bonds, fighting both 'no' and 'yes' until she can find herself between them. He takes a step back and she feels the air shift as her knees wobble beneath her, as she takes a deep cool breath and says, hoarsely but firmly, "I'm just your doctor, Captain. I'm your Woman, God knows why. You command me, but you don't own me. You don't."

She's braced for a slap, ready for the pain, but Kirk just chuckles with a galling lack of surprise. "Bones, you don't even know how hot you are, do you? Fucked messy and pissed off." Leah's cheeks burn until she could almost imagine her blood beating in them, a red pulsing glow against the blue pulse of the conduit behind her. She hears Kirk breathing nearby but something's off, and for a wild hideous moment Leah wonders if someone's snuck around the corner, if Kirk's signaled them to silence as they watch her quivering here, naked and blindfolded and her thighs oozing wet.

Then Kirk's mouth brushes between her breasts, his hands frame her hips, and he settles to his knees before her, tugging her hips forward so she teeters into an arch. "I can't--" she gasps as his lips skim down her belly, but her protest strangles off at the first wet caress of his tongue up her thigh. He moans theatrically as he chases drips, buzzing into her sensitized flesh, and her voice sinks into a deep needy groan, low in her chest, quivering up through her gut. He licks her open with the flat of his tongue and she shudders at each stroke, clenching her hands until her nails dent her palms, until she can distract herself enough to lie. "Sir, I'm done, _really_."

Kirk pulls back just long enough to cough and chuckle, "Baby, say my name," before he plunges in again and Leah cries out before she can think. She can't hear over her own autonomic noise but he wouldn't let anyone see him kneel, she frantically tells herself as she gasps under his relentless tonguing, as he splays his hands around her thighs and seals his mouth around her clit and sucks it to a wild throb. But she knows he has no shame, probably half the ship knows firsthand how he fucks, it's not like she's the only one he fucks. She's just the one who's his.

She's _not_ his, she tells herself as she sobs out, "Oh, God, oh fuck, goddamn," and "Kirk," and "please, _please_," curses and cries torn loose by the implacable waves of pleasure as Kirk works her over with lips and tongue and doesn't stop and doesn't stop. She's not his, even if tremors wrack her until she loses count, even if he pushes two fingers perfectly roughly into her and she rocks her head back and screams, even if he chuckles darkly right against her aching clit and licks the twinging folds flexing around his fingers until all she can feel is the crashing pound of another orgasm and the distant airless burn in her chest, the bands of fire around her wrists, the hot tears sliding down her face.

Kirk gives her one last long lick, down all the way to her taint, and everything inside her shudders out of alignment, her ribs seem to lock for an airless moment. He eases his fingers out, kissing her thigh and murmuring, "Stay _right_ there," and Leah can't even shape sarcastic words around the washed-out wave of irritation, can only cough and slump to her knees, her feet skidding out from beneath her on the slicked floor.

He comes back, one arm around her waist as he cuts the restraints apart, not off, pulling her against him as she falls forward, her arms winding around his solid warmth even though he's who did this to her. "I, I, I," Leah whimpers as Kirk drags her into his lap, his resurgent dick hard against her belly, clutching his shoulders as he sweeps his thumbs over her cheekbones and kisses her voraciously. She wants to want to demand he take her back to her quarters, and licks her own taste off his tongue. She wants to want to care if someone sees them, and arches into his fingers dragging down her sweat-slicked back. She wants not to catch his shamelessness, not to tighten her fingers around the hard curves of his biceps, not to writhe under his teeth when he bites her shoulder and her sizzling nerves cross-register pleasure and pain.

She wants not to moan with loss when he wraps long hands around her waist and pushes her back, not to tumble obediently over when he turns her, murmuring, "That's it, on your knees," not to wind her arms around the cylindrical conduit, pressing her forehead to its pulse, not to tremble in anticipation at the small ripping noise and slick squelch she hears behind her. She wants to be shocked or disgusted or anything other than pressing back wantonly to meet him when he leans over her and pushes slowly, steadily into her ass, hissing hot as a ruptured conduit in her ear as she groans through gritted teeth. She wants it not to feel good, this different stretch and ache and fullness as she clings to the shaft between her hands and tremors carry down her thighs.

Leah wants not to want Kirk, his inflexible muscle at her back, his strong mobile hands tweaking her nipples and stroking her belly, his unhurried pound into her. She wants not to want to beg when his hand pauses right at the margin of her mound, wants to resist when he grasps and turns her chin to kiss her, pushing her cheek against the conduit. She wants not to sob for him, not to keen for him, not to choke out a stuttering cry when he laughs over her mouth and wraps his fingers around her throat, as he presses firm burning strokes over her clit until she comes one last shattering time, fluttering tight around nothing, around him buried balls-deep in her guts.

She wants to hate him, she _does_ when he licks her cheek up to the blindfold and grips her hip so hard she feels her pelvis creak, when he mutters darkly, "Mine, you're mine, you're mine." He drives into her harder, faster, and she sobs and clutches the conduit, her knees skidding on the floor.

But she finds one more "No," even if she moans it, even if she can only gasp the words, "I'm not, I don't, I _won't_."

Kirk just bites down on Leah's ear, gritting out, "_Good,_" and comes in seemingly-endless jolts, counterpoint to the pulsing conduit in her arms.

For a long, long moment their harsh ragged panting drowns out the ship's hum. Eventually Kirk slumps onto her back and slides off beside her, gravity tugging him free of her twinging body. Eventually she unwinds her arms from around the conduit and drapes them limp across the slippery floor. Eventually, as he nestles his hand between her breasts and his face into her hair, Leah coordinates her fingers enough to peel the restraints from her wrists.

Eventually, she dares to push Kirk's arm away, relaxing a little when he lets her sit up against the conduit. She wants to resent its steady impassive thrum, but can't help but be comforted as she evens out her breathing, unknots the dripping sash and blinks open her sore eyes. There's no silent watcher, at least, just Kirk, who throws his arm across her lap, snuggling his face into her hip, the glow all around them catching goldenly in his hair as he brushes his lips down her thigh.

Then he bites her.

Squeezing her fists tight to keep from pushing at Kirk's head, Leah sucks in a breath and doesn't scream. Kirk keeps it up, her trapped flesh afire between his teeth as a sob builds in the back of her throat, as she shakes harder and harder until she finally gasps, "Ow, goddammit, stop it, _please!_"

Kirk instantly lets go, rolling onto his back with a wide gleaming grin, and blinks innocent blue eyes up at her. "Your wish is my command, Bones."

Leah doesn't say 'fuck you,' even though he probably can't get it up again right this moment. She doesn't say, 'go to Hell,' because he'd just wind up running the place, charming and knifing his way to the top. She snorts, and presses her lips together as the bite throbs on her thigh, and pushes herself to her unsteady feet with the help of the conduit.

She does look at her sash, soggy and sparkly in her fist, and mutters, "Ugh," as she wipes her face with her hand, pushing her hair back. The only clothes she has left are the wet sash and those stupid boots, she's covered in sweat and semen and she aches from waist to knees, and her mind shies away from the thought of trudging through the corridors in this thoroughly unpresentable state, but she can't come up with another option.

Kirk reaches over to grab his dagger, then bounces to his feet beside her, completely unconcerned with his own nude besmeared state. "Good girl," he says, patting the conduit, and kisses Leah over his old handprint bruised onto her shoulder. She wishes it made her shudder more. "But we'd better get going. We've got eleven minutes until the ionization sweep, give or take five seconds." She looks up at him, and as if she what she's asking is for _technical_ information, he explains, "Every twelve hours it reduces all organic residues to monatomic particles. Lots of delicate equipment down here, after all. You can leave those clothes."

Leah shrugs and drops the sash, and lets Kirk guide her, with a hand spread across the base of her spine, in the direction opposite the way they came. There's a fine dusty haze of exhaustion over her mind and a dry tickle in her throat, and all she wants is a shower, something to wear, to check on her daughter and to go to bed.

She's still shocked when she gets the first two, when Kirk steers her around the corner into an emergency sonic shower. He winds his arms around her shoulders, and it takes all her pride, bolstered by the throbbing bruises and bites, for her not to lean back against his chest during the forty-five seconds of ultrasonic buffeting. He pushes her out ahead of him, motions to a particular conduit on the edge of the passage and says, "Check back there."

Leah finds a brown board box containing a new uniform for Kirk, and beneath it the exact clothes she wore to Rand's, down to her communicator and hairpin. She looks at him, and he waggles his eyebrows as he holds out her medical badge.

While they dress he bothers her, of course, her weary skin crawling at the cheer in his voice. "So, Terwilliger. If she or anyone else in Medical gives you trouble, tell them you'll send them to me."

"No thank you, _Captain_," Leah says as tartly as she can manage while quivering with exhaustion. "I'll deal with my department." She pulls her tunic over her head, twists her hair up in her hand and looks him in the eye. "You made me CMO," she adds, which might be a word too far, but she's sore and worn out and he did, after all.

Kirk just grins and reaches for her, and she thinks about ducking away and holds still for his fingers stroking her hair, his palm on her cheek. "Anything you say, Bones," he tells her, so warmly she could almost believe him, if she lost her mind.

So she takes a breath, she hauls up every tiny scrap of diplomacy she possesses and she says, "About that. Joanna..." Kirk just listens, rolling a damp strand of her hair between his fingers, so Leah ventures onwards, circling the point, hopefully not giving Kirk an opening to directly refuse. "She's not... she's not me. She's too young to have chosen this. She deserves to have her own life."

"Joanna is under my protection," Kirk says, his voice calm and cool, and Leah's fury spikes and topples and crashes. She was a damn fool to even try. "For the rest of my life." He pulls Leah against his chest, where she sags, staring at nothing. "But she's not you. You're mine." Leah opens her mouth, breathes, and shuts it, entirely out of words.

Eventually, she spreads her hands on Kirk's chest, his heart beating under her fingers, and pushes away from him, and he holds on just long enough to make his point before letting go. "So, boy uniforms for Medical, huh?" he says casually.

"With your permission, Captain," Leah reminds him, trying for toneless, arriving at resentful. "Thank you." He could've given her another ridiculous female uniform, after all.

"Not just anyone gets to lay eyes on this fine ass." Kirk slaps her there, hard enough to make her jump, hard enough to make her glare at him before she can pull her gaze back down. He just smirks and holds out an expectant hand. "C'mon, Bones, let's get you to bed. The days are long up here."

Leah reaches halfway over before she even realizes. Pursing her lips, she lifts her heavy head and looks uncertainly up at the Captain, her hand suspended over his.


End file.
